


How to Catch A Quidditch Captain's Heart

by whitedandelions



Series: 50 Tomarry/Harrymort Oneshotssss [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 04:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16569452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitedandelions/pseuds/whitedandelions
Summary: Harry’s pretty sure Gryffindor’s going to win the Quidditch Cup for the seventh year running.  But then Tom Riddle, Head Boy and Hogwart's resident golden boy, inexplicably joins the Slytherin Quidditch team and Harry’s suddenly sure that there’s no way Gryffindor’s going to win anymore.





	How to Catch A Quidditch Captain's Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise!! I'm finally writing again! Hope you enjoy this little idea that got away from me and ended up longer than I wanted!

Harry groans and throws himself down onto the couch next to Hermione. 

She’s reading a book, so she doesn’t notice until he’s already sitting, and she turns to look at him, surprise easy to see in her eyes.  “Harry?” she asks, already reaching for a bookmark, and Harry is so grateful for her.

Ron is still at the Quidditch Pitch and already knows everything he’s about to say, so he doesn’t feel any hesitation in complaining.  “ _Riddle_  joined the Slytherin Quidditch team.  Riddle!  He doesn’t even go to Quidditch games.”

“He can’t be any good, then,” points out Hermione, sensibly.

“That’s what I thought!  But no, of course he’s bloody amazing.  He caught the snitch in seconds.  In  _seconds_ ,” he emphasizes, and he can tell Hermione’s amused by the way her mouth twitches.  Hermione still doesn’t understand Quidditch, despite her relationship with Ron, and it shows in the way she’s not overly concerned by his words.

Because Ron  _understands_.  Ron had also been enraged like him because Slytherin isn’t – Slytherin’s never been a  _threat_  like this before.  Now with Riddle?  Riddle who is a  _seeker_  just like him?  There’s a very good chance they might not win the next match.

“You’re the better seeker,” says Hermione.  “He’s never played in a match before and you’ve never lost to another seeker.”

“It’s Riddle, though,” he says, unable to keep the whine out of his voice.  “He’s good at everything.  Why should Quidditch be any different?”

“Well,” says Hermione, “he’s good at book things.  Like me.  You can’t read a book on Quidditch and just suddenly be amazing at it.  You’ll be fine.”

Harry stares at Hermione’s earnest expression and her stark belief that there’s no way Riddle can be good at Quidditch and tries his best to believe it.

* * *

 

He never should’ve believed Hermione.

Riddle’s  _playing_  with him.  Whenever he looks over at the other seeker, Riddle’s watching him.  Harry hadn’t seen him look for the snitch once. 

He makes a face at Riddle, before focusing his attention on the pitch, his eyes quickly scanning to see if he can see the snitch.  He wants this over as soon as possible and for that to happen, Harry needs to catch the snitch.

His heart skips a beat as he sees a glimmer of gold.  He’s about to dive when he yelps, dodging out of the way of a bludger.

By the time he looks again, Riddle’s already moving. 

Riddle’s faster than anyone else he’s seen, and Harry’s chasing him, but he doesn’t think he’ll be able to catch up in time. 

Riddle’s almost to the snitch when he suddenly pulls back his hand, merely tapping the snitch with a finger before inconceivably losing grip.  The snitch is gone in the next second.

Harry watches, already pulled up and floating still, with his mouth agape. 

Riddle shrugs, and then turns to look at Harry with an innocent expression.

“Why?” he demands, and Riddle laughs.

“Couldn’t let it be over that fast,” he explains, and then smirks.  “This game is already such a bore.”

He’s flying off before Harry can get another word in.

* * *

 

Despite Riddle’s infuriating tactics, Harry still doesn’t win.  Riddle catches the snitch after pushing it away two more times, and he catches it so delicately – in between two fingers – that it’s almost unbelievable.

When they land, Harry’s teammates deliberately don’t say anything, knowing he’s about to lose it.  Ron’s already walking up to him to console him, and really Harry would be more touched, but Riddle had made a  _fool_  of him.

Riddle’s walking away, his quidditch robes completely untouched with sweat, and Harry sees red.

He walks right past Ron and shouts Riddle’s name.  The wizard turns, and Harry glares at him.  “Why are you even playing Quidditch?” he asks.

“There are circumstances,” Riddle says.  “Why are  _you_  playing Quidditch, Harry?”

He flounders because Riddle’s used his first name and that’s enough to fluster him.  “Because I love it,” he eventually snaps, and Riddle shrugs.

“Well, maybe I do.  Love Quidditch, I mean.”

“You…” he pauses, too shocked because well Riddle had called the game a bore.  “You’ve never been to a Quidditch match in your seven years!”

“My,” says Riddle, looking amused, “I didn’t know you had such a vested interest in my attendance to your matches, Harry.”

Riddle’s obviously playing with him.  He knows this.  He understands Riddle’s personality after being his classmate for seven years.  That still doesn’t stop him from rising to the bait and getting angry.  “Well if you like Quidditch so much, then you won’t mind joining me for a match between seekers tomorrow.”

“Great,” says Riddle, his tone so different from Harry’s that Harry blinks.  “It’s a date, then.”

“I –“ he stammers, but Riddle’s already walking away, back to his teammates.

Being alone with Riddle after today seems like the worst decision he could’ve made.  He can just see it now; Riddle would fly circles around him and taunt him about the snitch and Harry won’t be able to do a  _thing_  about it.

But…

Maybe the other Seekers can help even the score.

* * *

 

It’s Saturday morning.

Cho’s not very happy with him because she likes to sleep in on the weekends, but Harry doesn’t care.  She’ll understand once she sees Riddle in action.  Then she’ll be  _thanking_  him for planning this.

Her boyfriend, the Hufflepuff Seeker, is much more awake.  He was way easier to convince than Cho.

“Look,” he says, “don’t underestimate him.  He’s way scarier than you guys think.”

“So you think I’m scary?”

He whirls, and he’s met with Riddle’s amused smirk.  He has his broom slung over his shoulder and he’s dressed casually, not even in his Quidditch uniform.  He’s not in a robe, instead his shirt is unbuttoned, revealing his collar bones.  Harry wants to take offense at the fact that Riddle’s not dressed  _correctly_  but well, Riddle’s here, and acquiescing to his whims, so all he does is wrinkle his nose.

“Yes,” he says, and Riddle smirks.

“Well, I guess that explains why Diggory and Chang are here.  Too scared to face me on your own, Harry?”

He’s doesn’t want to start fighting with Riddle, so all he does is turn to the suitcase holding the bludgers and the snitch.  The bludgers are charmed enough that all it would do is slightly inconvenience them, not actually hurt them if any one of them gets distracted.  He releases the bludgers and holds the snitch tightly with one hand.

“Ready?” he asks.  Cho and Cedric both get on their brooms, but Riddle doesn’t.  He just stands there, his smirk still there and his eyes boring directly into Harry’s.

He flushes at the idea he’s holding all of Riddle’s attention.  Riddle’s intense, and he’s ridiculously attractive, and it’s honestly hard to take the full brunt of Riddle’s scrutiny.  Instead of facing it, he just releases the snitch up in the air, both Cho and Cedric taking off the ground immediately.

Harry’s about to do the same when he notices Riddle’s still not on his broom.  “What are you doing?” he asks, and Riddle shrugs.

“Waiting for you,” he says, and it would sound sweet, except it’s oddly mocking.  He makes a face, and before Riddle can say anything else, kicks off the ground.

* * *

 

Riddle wins.

Three times.

They don’t stand a chance against him. 

They’ve just finished the third time, and both Cho and Cedric are leaving for breakfast.

“And what about you?” asks Riddle.  He’s playing with the Snitch, and it’s oddly attractive the way he’s letting it go and then catching it almost immediately.  “Do you want to go again?”

“There’s no point,” he says, and goes about locking up the bludgers.  When he’s done, Riddle’s fingers brush against his as he hands Harry the snitch, and he jumps, the contact sending a weird shiver through his body.

Riddle follows him as Harry floats the suitcase back into the Quidditch shed, and when he’s done locking it up, he turns to face him.

Riddle’s taller than him, and he has to tilt his head up to look at the older wizard.  “Thanks,” he says, eventually, because well Riddle did get up early to humor him.

“If you really want to thank me, buy me breakfast in Hogsmeade.”

He pauses, but Riddle doesn’t look like he’s joking.  He’s about to refuse when he realizes just how hungry he is and the fact that both Ron and Hermione are already out and about in Hogsmeade on their own date. 

“Fine,” he says, “but if I’m buying you breakfast, then you’re teaching me that spin you do when you dive for the snitch.”

Riddle looks briefly surprised, but it’s gone in the next second.  He holds out his arm, and Harry only hesitates for a second before he loops his arm with Riddle’s.

* * *

 

It becomes a weekly thing.  Cho and Cedric don’t join them, but they still wake up at dawn to practice on the Quidditch Pitch.

Riddle is  _charming_.  He somehow convinces Harry to treat him to breakfast after each session, and surprisingly enough, Harry starts to enjoy it.  He’s learning so much from Riddle, which is surprising since he finds out Riddle’s only started playing Quidditch that summer for some reason.  Riddle won’t tell him why, which is annoying in itself, but it’s not like Harry can really complain.  It’s not like he knows why he started to play Quidditch – not in any way he can articulate without sounding pretentious anyway.

And it’s all going well, until the next match.

Riddle is even worse now that Harry and he are meeting up on the weekends.  He messes around even more, enough so that when the match is finally over, Harry is furious.

He stays on the grounds long enough that his teammates are already heading back to Hogwarts.  Riddle still hasn’t left, and Harry is angry enough that he storms into the Slytherin’s locker room.

No one else is there, and he pauses, wondering if somehow Riddle had left the locker room without him noticing. 

But no, he hears the shower shutting off, and that’s definitely Riddle, so he rounds the corner, intent on giving the other wizard a piece of his mind.

And comes face first with a very  _naked_  Riddle.  He’s only wearing a towel around his waist, and he looks surprised to see Harry.

There’s a long few moments of silence, because Harry can’t be coherent, not when Tom’s very naked chest is in front of him and there’s still water running down his muscles.

“Did you need something?” asks Riddle, eventually, and Harry shakes his head.

“Nope,” he says, because really, there’s no more anger left in him and he really just wants to leave and yeah, he’s just going to leave now because that’s the safer thing to do then stay and yell at a naked Riddle.  He turns and he’s about to hightail it out of there when Riddle grabs his hand.

“Harry,” he says, and Harry stays still because his name in that voice is almost too much for him.  He’s probably been fighting his attraction for Riddle ever since he’s seen the other wizard on a broom – and especially since he’s seen Riddle in an increasing number of tight clothes on their morning practices – and this is not possible for him.  He’s not going to be able to turn around and talk to Riddle, not without giving himself away.

“Look at me,” says Riddle, and it’s not pleading, it’s more of an order.

An order that Harry can’t disobey. 

Harry turns slowly, and when he meets Riddle’s eyes, he’s not surprised to see Riddle’s smirking.  “Do you like what you see, Harry?”

“No,” he says, because he lives to be contrary to Riddle even if it’s  _obvious_  he does like what he sees, and Riddle looks like he knows.

He’s still holding Harry’s hand, so it’s easy enough for Riddle to pull him closer.  Harry can’t help the yelp that leaves him when Riddle is suddenly flush against him, so close that there’s dampness seeping into his Quidditch clothes.

“Uh,” he stammers, flustered, and that’s when Riddle kisses him.

He’s only surprised for a second, and then he’s kissing back as best as he can, desperate not to give Riddle complete control over him.

He loses, but he can’t say he minds, not when Riddle takes such good care of him.

* * *

 

After morning practice, Riddle takes cares of him in the locker room.  Sometimes, Riddle takes him back to his room, but more often than not, they stay down on the Quidditch Pitch because after a round of getting his arse thoroughly beaten in their one on one seeker matches, Harry finds having his arse ravaged by Riddle usually makes it better.

They don’t talk feelings; Harry’s sure that Riddle doesn’t  _have_  feelings.  And it’s not bad, their relationship, Harry still gets tips from Riddle and Riddle takes good care of him, even after the deed is done and they’re lying in bed together. 

He’s sure this counts as sleeping with the enemy, but he can’t say he feels too guilty.  It’s not as if the Gryffindor team had much of a chance against the Slytherins anyway, not with Riddle’s inexplicable talent at Quidditch.

Harry’s feelings are getting worse though.  He knew he had a crush on Riddle before they started sleeping together, but now that he knows how it is to wake up to Riddle, he’s sure it’s become full grown infatuation.  If Harry’s any less stubborn, he’s sure he would’ve blurted out his feelings already.  It’s hard to not do so, not when Riddle’s carrying his books or when Riddle’s bringing him breakfast after he wakes up in Riddle’s bed. 

He’s fallen for Riddle, the wizard he used to  _loathe_  since he was simply too perfect.

Still, it’s not as if Harry’s going to confess anything, especially if it means their relationship might stop. 

And he’s a guy, strings-free sex is something he will never turn down.  Even  _if_  it isn’t so strings-free for him.

* * *

 

He’s going to congratulate Tom on another victory, even though this means the Slytherins will be now against the Gryffindors for the Quidditch Cup, when he ducks behind something.

There’s someone he doesn’t know talking to Tom.

“You’re really something out there, son,” the older wizard is saying.  He’s smiling wide, and Harry suddenly recognizes him as the scout that was supposed to come by for the final match.  That he had come here of all days to watch Tom play against the Ravenclaws meant that word of Tom’s talent was already leaving Hogwarts.

For some reason, the idea makes him bereft.  Tom’s  _good_ , maybe insanely talented, but he’s Harry’s rival.  He doesn’t want Tom to become a professional.

He risks another glance out and catches sight of Tom’s face.  He’s not smiling or smirking; he looks uncomfortable.  Harry has never seen Tom wear that expression before and it’s boggling because even if Tom doesn’t have much interest in Quidditch, it’s still a good thing to be recognized.

“How do you feel about trying out for the England National Team?  All training and travel expenses covered.  Of course, you can wait until after you graduate to make a decision.”

Harry gapes, his eyes wide.  This is something he would’ve  _dreamed_  of hearing, something he’s entertained in his most private thoughts.  Getting onto the national team is something that most people strive for, and to be asked before even graduating? 

He glances over at Tom, expecting to see some sort of happiness, but is only greeted with a blank expression.

“I’m not interested,” says Tom, his tone clipped, and the scout’s mouth falls open just like Harry’s.

“Excuse me?” he asks.  “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

“No,” says Tom, and he starts to move away when the scout steps deftly in front of him.

“You’re exceptional, Tom Riddle,” the scout all but pleads, “your talent really needs to be recognized!  Is it money?  Are you worried about the fame?”

Tom’s expression gives way, not to happiness, but annoyance.  “I don’t care about the national team.”

The scout gasps and leans back in horror.  “You don’t care?  This is the highest honor for a Quidditch player.”

“Is it.”  Tom sounds bored, and he takes a step back, looking down at the scout.  “I honestly don’t even care about Quidditch.”

The scout looks broken at the revelation, and Harry can’t say he doesn’t feel the same.  He knows Tom hadn’t cared about Quidditch, but they had spent so many mornings training together that it feels like a lie.

The scout looks like he’s going to break into tears, and something in Tom must give because he suddenly continues.

“If you must know, I picked it up because the wizard I like adores it.  I figured the only way to catch his attention was to play the accursed game, so I did.”

Harry stops still, because he had just been about to pop out and put the scout out of his misery, but at Tom’s words, he can’t move.

Because who else can Tom mean but him?

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice Tom’s already walking toward the locker room, leaving the poor scout slumped on his knees in defeat.

* * *

 

“You like me.”

Tom turns to face him; he’s once again half naked because Harry interrupted him while he was stripping to take a shower, and Harry takes a second to enjoy the view.

“What gave it away?” asks Tom, sounding amused.  “The fact that we slept together every other day?”

He can’t help the hot flush on his cheeks and he points at Tom.  “You should’ve told me!”

“Told you what?” asks Tom.  His full attention is on Harry now, and he puts his neatly folded robe on one of the benches.  “That I started to play Quidditch to make you fall for me?  It’s a ridiculously easy game to pick up, by the way.  I really don’t understand all the commotion about it.”

“It’s our only sport, Tom,” he says, and then laughs because of course Tom knew he had been listening in the whole time.  Tom probably would have never told the scout the truth otherwise.

Tom’s making a face, probably at Harry’s words, and it’s oddly endearing.  He walks forward, close enough that he can reach out and touch Tom.  So he does. 

Tom doesn’t move away, even when Harry gets close enough to press a chaste kiss against his lips.  “I like you, too,” he says. 

“I know,” says Tom, “it’s been quite obvious.”

He ignores Tom and crowds his new love until his back is touching the lockers.  Tom lets him, amused enough, and when Harry leans in for a kiss, Tom gets there first.

* * *

 

Tom quits Quidditch to the dismay of all the Slytherins and the happiness of the Gryffindors.

Harry argues with him before his decision, because the victory feels hollow if it’s only because Tom’s not playing anymore. 

“You’re the better seeker,” Tom says, earnest expression and all, and Harry’s uncomfortably reminded of what Hermione had said before this all started.  “Besides, I only played Quidditch to get your attention, and now that I have it, I don’t need to play anymore.”

Tom’s not wrong, and it’s still sweet, so Harry swallows his pride and doesn’t protest Tom’s decision.

Gryffindor wins the Quidditch Cup for the seventh year running, and it’s what he’s been hoping for the whole school year.  It’s why he kept going to Tom for tips, why he made his team run so many drills, why he spent so much of his school life playing Quidditch.

And he’s happy about it, but he finds that his seventh year may have given him something better than Quidditch.

Because Tom’s sitting in the stands, with Harry’s scarf wrapped around his neck, and he’s not cheering, but he’s  _there_.

When he finally gets up into the stands, he’s not surprised to see Tom putting down a book.  He’s sure Hermione and Tom would be great friends as soon as they stopped hating one another.

“Hi,” he says, and before Tom can say anything back, leans down and kisses his boyfriend.  

**Author's Note:**

> So I realized that I only write well with motivation so I'm challenging myself to write 50 tomarry/harrymort oneshots in a year - and I'll try to post one each Friday. (Though, let's be honest, I would be happy to reach 25 - and I'll try to count a chapter of any WIPs as part of my challenge if I ever get the inspiration to write them again). I'll probably post a list of what kind of prompts I'll be doing on tumblr once I get them all written out (next one is basically Harry being Tom's best friend when Tom's a Dark Lord and spends all his time trying to stop Tom from killing everyone). The oneshots will be AU/fluff/dark/etc, and might be glimpses or full oneshots like this, so please leave a comment if you want a sequel to any (such as, should I have written the locker sex scene?) ! I've missed Tomarry/Harrymort so much, so I know I'm going to have a blast writing these two dorks again :D.
> 
> As always, thanks in advance for any kudos and comments!  
> Please follow me on whitepinkdandelions.tumblr.com


End file.
